


here what passes for love is the same as anywhere else

by deimosun



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deimosun/pseuds/deimosun
Summary: high school au.they are friends, really close friends, and like all friends on that closeness level, they piss each other off.(i mean it with you, neymar will say down the line. gerard will smile and suck a hickey right beneath his jaw)





	

**Author's Note:**

> [ title from here.](http://alonesomes.tumblr.com/post/79123799021/here-is-the-topography-of-false-starts-here-a)

neymar overheard the guys laughing about it on the beginning of training, before gerard arrived into the pitch. he got closer and when he saw what the conversation was about, completely closed off.

geri is friends with that asshole cristiano ronaldo. no one really gets why but they  _are_ friends. and the last news going around? that guy, of all people, neymar expected to not see gerard kissing.

well, he was wrong.

gerard arrived soon enough and stared joking with them, making more of a mess on the situation and trying to get a rise out of neymar when he wouldn’t jump into the bandwagon and well. neymar was getting more and more annoyed, snapping and pushing him away but gerard was like a stray dog gnawing at a bone, just wouldn’t let it fucking go. 

when gerard opened his mouth to talk about rafa, neymar jumped at him, out of nowhere. more accurately, tackled him. which wouldn’t usually take place but gerard was distracted so. it happened.

it’s quiet for a bit, everyone around them silent and staring until geri starts laughing loudly when the ridiculousness of the situation fully hits him, how small and skinny neymar is over him. the laugh escapes from his throat and he can feel it rattling around on his ribcage, neymar a solid weight above his chest. the grass is wet against the back of his shirt and he can feel the moisture seeping through it, making his body wet. 

he doesn’t even know  _why_  exactly he got attacked like this; he was saying something about neymar’s sister, how hot and what a babe she is and neymar jumped him. which makes no sense because a) it wasn't nothing new he was just messing around as usual and b) neymar has already been weird all day, shrugging him off and avoiding him on the halls and now this, taking a stupid joke serious enough to hit him?

there’s noise on his ears, like a blurred sound and neymar is looking stupidly mad over him, face set into a frown and fists clenched. they make a hump sound when he hits gerard on the chest, to force him to take neymar seriously.

“stop laughing, you asshole!” he yells, and gerard wheezes out one last noise before shutting up. 

he’s looking at neymar from down there and he can see the coach approaching them with a stern look on his face. whoops.

“the fuck is wrong with you, neymar.” geri asks and neymar doesn’t say anything anymore, doesn’t answer, just gets off him and looks like a deer caught in headlights when he sees who’s in front of them.

coach looks at them, eyes squinted and arms crossed in front of his chest. he’s looking them up and down, assessing them. neymar shuffles around uncomfortably under the stare and geri puts a hand on the back of his own neck, sheepish. 

“10 extras lap, each. now.”

neymar opens his mouth like he’s ready to protest, to give his version of the story (whatever it is, whatever he affirms it is) but gerard pulls at his arm which shuts him right up. he nods his head towards coach and starts running, neymar coming up behind him after some seconds. 

they are pretty far away from the middle of the pitch, but gerard can see the boys picking up the discarded balls and cones before walking towards the p.e building to store those away while they are still on lap number four.

when they finish, they go towards the locker room and it’s quiet. neymar is breathing heavily, his shirt sticking to his skin with sweat and his legs are all dirty from when gerard suddenly stopped and neymar hit him, full body force before falling towards the grass. gerard was smiling when he offered a hand for neymar to get up, but the smile was gone after he was ignored and neymar got up on his own.

yes, neymar is mad but - 

geri keeps treating him like a child. he keeps brushing him off and joking around and.

it’s been bothering him for months, already. it’s a miracle he kept it secret for this long. he knows the boys talk about it, about geri’s latest catch at a party, the pictures of him swapping spit with god knows who this time circling around on their chat groups are normal by now. 

neymar doesn’t like it, feels annoyed and upset and just. 

it’s not fucking fair, you know.

he’s been in love with geri for so long he doesn’t know what else to do.

 

* * *

 

 

(sometimes, sometimes neymar thinks, this is it, now, this time - 

never, not really.

they are at a house party, squished on the sofa near the wall, just watching people dance and joking, drinking. geri is drinking from a red cup filled with vodka and juice and neymar has a beer on his hand, picking the label off it distractedly. 

they are laughing about the people on the dance floor, saying dumb remarks and mocking the way leo dances with cesc and neymar feels comfortable like this, with geri glued to his side and looking at him like he’s going to kiss him by the end of the night when he leaves neymar by his mom’s doorstep at three am. 

when a pretty girl shows up though, geri talks to her for two minutes before getting up and following her upstairs, where they’ll probably fuck and leaves neymar alone behind with just a nod of his head.

there’s no kissing on the end of the night. neymar slams the door when he gets out of the car.)

 

* * *

 

 

neymar showers quickly and gerard looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what, is not exactly sure of what to do, so he just keeps to himself. neymar snorts and gets under the spray of the shower. it hits full force on his face and makes his bangs drop wet over his forehead, defeated. just like how he feels. he hears gerard shuffling around, probably getting the body wash neymar forgot to bring into the shower.

when he opens his eyes, the bottle is there by his feet. neymar feels annoyed by this because  _stupid, stupid geri being sweet and thoughtful even after i tackled him stupid geri_. he bends down to pick it anyway.

when he gets out, gerard already has his clothes on and is sitting at the bench, legs open and waiting for neymar.

there’s no getting out of this, then. 

he dresses quickly, and refuses to say a word to start the talk. he hears gerard sigh, before asking “what is going on, ney?”

“why him,” he asks, and averts his eyes away. geri looks confused. “why cristiano?”

“because. i can hook up with whoever i want to.”

neymar is starting to look annoyed, like he just can’t get his point through on different language, on a language that is not his and it pisses him off.

“that’s not the problem here, gerard!” he says loudly, staring up at him.

“so what the hell is it, because i have no idea!!”

“why do you hook up with everyone but me.”

the thing here is that gerard is always so sweet and treats neymar so well. it makes things blurred, makes it even harder to deal with his crush like this. everything is a taste of something he wants but can’t have. it stings, a constant ache behind his ribs, near his heart, every time geri pulls neymar’s shins over his lap to give foot rubs while they are doing marathons of another tv show on netflix. 

“don’t do that.” gerard answers and he looks taken aback, for an instant before schooling his face into a serious semblance, all traces of lightness gone.  

“do what?” neymar asks back. he knows he might be pushing here, by geri’s stance and by how he looks but - he wants to know, why never him. why always someone else. geri has hooked up with friends before, he knows it, so why not him?

“ _this_. you act like - you act like i’m pushing you out, or something, that i’m keeping you from something but that’s not true and you know it. don’t do that, you know how it is.”

“you do this with everyone.” 

“you’re - you’re not everyone, neymar.”

“what the fuck does that even mean, gerard.” neymar is frowning at him, and he looks fairly angry and gerard looks speechless and distressed and like he doesn’t even know what to say, doesn’t know where to begin with. “you know what. whatever. forget it.”

and then he’s gone.

he leaves the room and geri is left behind, trying to scramble for his sandals but when he manages to find the right foot, neymar is already gone and the janitor is looking at him like he’s crazy for yelling  _neymar, wait!!!_  out loud on the halls of a deserted building.

this is stupid, this whole thing is stupid because - 

neymar just won’t fucking get it.

he’s young and dumb and he says thing without meaning them, he just lets words flood his mouth and then spill through his lips. 

he doesn’t mean it.

he never does.

 (neymar, neymar is a weird little thing. he likes people and he likes attention and he likes things he shouldn’t. he likes eating donuts specially when when he’s on a diet and he likes danger, likes crossing the street when there’s cars coming and likes pulling tricks and stunts inside the pitch when he knows the defenders want to use his skin as a carpet for their bedroom. he likes it fast, now, come and gone like lighting. 

geri, on the other hand, wants things to matter. he wants things to last.)

 

* * *

 

 

they are fine again, as all friends eventually do.

geri stops by to pick neymar up the next morning and it’s radio silence until gerard blurts out “we are okay, right?”. he looks restless and wide eyed, waiting for an answer.

neymar nods and starts fiddling with the ipod that is stuck on the console of the car.

“yeah. we are fine.”

and it’s ok. they don’t talk about what happened the other day. neymar acts like it never went down and ignores when gerard tries to talk about it. it works, it’s fine, they are alright.

neymar is not sure, though. things seem to be a bit strained in a way, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

nothing really changes. they keep going.

 

* * *

 

 

“you know,” leo says, from where he’s hunched over the library table copying the bits he needs for his essay from the borrowed history book while neymar is munching on a power bar he brought in illegally since food is not allowed inside the room. “you should talk to geri.”

neymar stops chewing.

“there’s nothing to talk about.”

leo doesn’t answer, just gives him a pointed look before going back to writing and mutters a  _shit_  when he messes a word up on his paper.

neymar goes back to chewing, his leg now nervously going up and down beneath the table.

he's sure gerard knows about it, about his crush on him. it’s impossible not to. he never said anything though, even with all the hints and tips and signs. he just acted like it was nothing and kept hugging neymar all the same, kissing his cheek and petting his hair all the same.

“there’s nothing to talk about.” he repeats lowly, more to himself than anything again.

this time it feels a tiny bit less like a lie escaping over his tongue.

 

* * *

 

 

they are laying on gerard’s basement, looking up at the ceiling while neymar’s favorite album plays on the background, streaming from gerard’s phone. neymar is snacking on a jar of cherries, sucking the juices ruining down from the fruits and popping them on his mouth, one after the other, just throwing the steams out on a small bowl nearby.

the tune changes again and something must have snapped on him, because neymar suddenly moves, scrambling to get up and hovering over his friend.

“geri, listen,“ he says, pressing down one hand on gerard’s chest and staining the white shirt with pink fingerprints.

“what is wrong?” gerard asks back, his feet tapping against the floor on the rhythm of the song playing.

“i want – “ neymar starts but cuts himself off, like this is not really what he wants to say but he can’t figure out the right words, like nothing really works the way he wants it to. “promise me something.”

gerard's feet stop moving. he looks at neymar, and takes him in – his hair flat against his forehead, the shaved bit of his eyebrow, how he’s nervously chewing on his bottom lip.

“promise me you won’t leave.”

that takes gerard by surprise. he didn’t know what to expect, but this –

he wants to ask, why. why now, why this, why me.

instead he says “i promise,” and feels something inside his chest rattle when the almost imperceptible tension leaves neymar’s shoulders and dissipates in thin air.

 

* * *

 

 

football, at least, is a constant that doesn’t change.

he still plays his best, putting all concerns on the back of his mind. not even the huge failure at the latest chemistry test can bring him down then, when he scores a brace and gets surrounded by hugs and kisses and pats on his ass.

when everyone dissipates, he looks back and gerard is smiling at him from away and making a heart with his hands, jumping up and down like a fool.

neymar smiles and ducks his head down, before running into position.

the next goal he scores, he runs towards gerard’s direction before jumping on him and kissing his neck. gerard laughs, and holds him up firmly by the thighs wrapped around his waist.

 

* * *

 

 

they are on the roof of gerard’s apartment building (they learned how to pick the lock to it on the very first week after he had moved in).

they are alone and neymar looks up at the stars high on the sky. he vaguely remembers a time he went to the observatory while on second grade, but never really learned how to find the ursa minor & co. it sounded stupid back then. it just looks pretty now.

“stop saying shit you don’t mean.” gerard says out of the blue. neymar looks at him, and he seems lost and upset and neymar doesn’t like it, but he can’t do this either. it’s not only his shit to pull.

“the fuck you mean with that, gerard?” neymar asks back, quick and sharp, the words leaving his mouth before he can think twice about them, about this.

gerard lets out a heavy breath and runs a hand through his hair, pulls the strands and shakes his head slightly as if it will clear his mind, untangle his thoughts. as if it will fix something.

“you just – this shit. always like this, it’s like words go from your brain to your mouth and you have no filter. you say the first thing on the tip of your tongue and you don’t hold back to anything, don’t regret anything. just – don’t act as if you want anything more when you don’t. not really.”

neymar doesn’t answer right away. he's awfully quiet and seems to be thinking something over, rummaging through it inside his head.

“i don’t know what you want.” he finally says, his shoulders slumping down. his voice has gone quiet and he is digging his nails into the concrete, the pad of his fingers scratching painfully against it.

“i want you to mean it.”

“i do mean it.”

“do you?” gerard asks again, presses again, doesn’t let it go. it sounds like a dare, like he wants to know how far neymar will take this.

neymar nods and grabs gerard’s face in-between his hands, looks him in the eye (clear blue light as the day always so kind and so so warm) and kisses him, finally. and it's like some sort of weird puzzle coming together, like a click and like something finally snapped into place.

neymar steps back and rubs the pad of a finger against his lips, softly.

“i swear i do, geri. i really do.”

 

* * *

 

 

it's some time later and they have come down from the rooftop and are instead, laying on gerard’s bed, under a blanket because neymar gets cold easily. their legs are tangled and neymar is wearing one of gerard’s hoodie, the soft gray one.

“i wasn’t sure,” he says and grabs neymar’s hand on his own, rubbing soothing circles against the skin with his thumb. “i didn’t know it was for real.”

“you never said anything.” neymar accuses him. and it is true. gerard was aware, had been for most of the time. neymar is not the greatest subtle person around and he didn’t even really try to be, anyway. nothing much to hide.

“it’s just. you say it so easily. to people you’ve met for fifteen minutes and to marc’s dog and to inanimate objects. i didn’t know what to think.”

“i mean it with you,” neymar answers. gerard ducks his head down to try and hide a smile before sucking a hickey right underneath his jaw.

then he kisses neymar, slow and deep, licks into his mouth, behind his teeth and sucks on his tongue, a hand firm and strong on the back of neymar’s neck just resting there, not gripping or anything.

“i want you,” he says. “i want you on my bed at saturday mornings after a sleepover and you on my kitchen at wednesdays after your art class is done and i pick you up.”

neymar ponders about this, for a bit, half a second, maybe. he wants that, too. he wants all that and more. so he nods and pulls gerard closer by the hem of his shirt, and kisses him again. that is enough of an answer on its own.


End file.
